


What Do You Do?

by bootson



Category: Actor RPF, Bandom, Cobra Starship, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-12
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootson/pseuds/bootson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After parties bore Chris to tears and Nate's snippy with enough unresolved sexual tension to keep Chris entertained.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Do?

**Author's Note:**

> So. This happened because [](http://flavouredice.livejournal.com/profile)[**flavouredice**](http://flavouredice.livejournal.com/) and I somehow got on the topic of Chris/Nate about a million years ago. Then I wrote comment!fic which I showed [](http://pikasafire.livejournal.com/profile)[**pikasafire**](http://pikasafire.livejournal.com/) many months after the fact but many months before now. Then I get on LJ and see [](http://pikasafire.livejournal.com/profile)[**pikasafire**](http://pikasafire.livejournal.com/) 's [Pinto Party](http://pikasafire.livejournal.com/66249.html) post. Somehow, that turned in to me actually "finishing" this. This is set at some random afterparty for some random event; I don't pretend to know what but we'll say something related to MTV or whatever. *hands* I never claimed that this was even the least bit plausible. I just finished it about 20 minutes ago and gave it one quick read through so if there are seriously glaring errors, blame the sleep deprivation or something. So... onwards.

"What do you do, anyway?" Chris looked Nate up and down. He was a pretty small person, really, but his arms and that _chest_. Maybe Chris was a little too interested in how the fabric of Nate's t-shirt stretched across his chest.

"Drum."

Chris startled a little, taking a drink so he wouldn't sound too surprised. "What, like as a hobby?"

Nate's expression closed off a little more and it was hard not to laugh at that. "What do you do?"

"I'm an actor."

Without missing a beat, Nate deadpanned "You mean as a hobby?

Without meaning to, Chris laughed, the first real laugh of the whole night. "Clever."

"Yeah." Finishing his drink, Nate shrugged.

For someone so small and, admittedly, really fucking attractive, Chris was pretty impressed with how snippy he looked. It was better than Zach on one of his tirades about the lack of free trade coffee in fucking Pennsylvania or whatever. Normally, Chris would have been content to just laugh it off, poke at this guy that he'd known since they were stuck waiting together at the bar just for how amusing it was. This time, though, he was more interested in getting that bitchy little look off of his face.

Idly, he wondered what that would take.

"What's with the someone-kicked-my-puppy look?"

That almost got him a smile. "I don't know what you're talking about." But his eyes scanned across the room, looking for someone apparently, and stopping in the direction of some tall guy in maybe-ironically mis-matched colors that Chris remembered seeing Nate with earlier and some other guy wearing glasses.

"Aw. Were you abandoned?"

"Fuck off," Nate told him without any real heat. "Fucking Alex."

And that last part was too quiet to be meant for Chris, but he latched onto it anyway. "I'm guessing you want to be?"

There was a slightly scared look being shot at him and Chris knew he'd hit the nail on the head. Well then. At least he knew why this kid was so pissy all the time.

"That obvious?"

"Little bit," Chris shrugged. He glanced around before he stepped closer. Catching his fingers in one of Nate's beltloops; he pulled him closer, their hips crashing together. The gasp he got was worth it. "Tell you what. I'm bored, you're sort of sexy in this tortured and jail-baity type way-"

"What the hell? I'm not-"

"Let's see if you can channel your unresolved sexual-tension, yeah?"

Nate's eyes widened, it was the smallest of changes to his expression but it was a tell. Biting his lip, cutting his eyes sideways and away from where his _friends_ were, he managed to make a decision. Chris was hoping for it and he wasn't disappointed when Nate fisted a hand in Chris' shirt and tugged. The flex through his forearm when he did was enough for Chris to lose track of what he was doing for a second. Yeah, he definitely needed those hands on him.

Drinks abandoned on the bar, Nate started to back up, pulling Chris' shirt until Chris snapped into action. Glancing across the room, Chris managed to catch the tall, poorly dressed guy's eyes for a second. Right when that one elbowed the one with glasses, not so surreptitiously, Chris grabbed Nate's wrist. Twisting in the crowd, he managed to slide through an opening between the chattering groups of girls without losing track of Nate's people. Both were standing a little straighter and that made Chris smirk. Nate crowding close to Chris' back probably wasn't helping whatever those two were thinking. Awesome.

If he could help little grumpy-kitten-Nate out with whatever unresolved issues he had, great. Hey, as long as Chris was still getting laid out of the deal.

Raising an eyebrow in mock-challenge, Chris finally turned just as Nate pushed him into a brighter corridor. Right off to the left was the door to the bathroom and, as luck would have it, some guy came stumbling out just as they reached it. Nate caught the door and his feet tangled with Chris' briefly. They went tumbling into the harsh lighting of the bathroom and Chris preserved just enough presence of mind to kick the door closed and turn the lock.

Turning back around, Chris bit his lip and grabbed at Nate's shirt. There wasn't much tugging involved before Nate was pressed against his chest, their legs slotted together. They moved at roughly the same time, lips catching and teeth clashing before they both backed off a little. Chris hadn't really expected a powerplay, but they both seemed to be vying for control until Chris managed to get his hands on Nate's hips. His grip was rough and it was enough to have Nate stretching up, grinding in a little more urgently.

Things were moving fast; they weren't really in the type of venue where you took your fucking time. Instead, Chris shoved and tugged until he had Nate against the wall in the space between a paper towel dispenser and the whitewashed, cinderblock corner. Nate arched, pressing his hips tight against Chris in this dirty grind that had Chris growling and seeing stars. He ducked, dropping his head to bite at the line of Nate's neck. Nate threw his head back farther and scratched his hands down Chris' chest until he could tug on the button of Chris' slacks.

He wasn't holding anything back, tugging unceremoniously at the fly until he could hook his fingers in and shove Chris' pants and breifs down in one go. Then Nate's hand was on him, tight and unforgiving and fucking _perfect_. It was a little dry, but Nate brought his hand up and licked it, eyes dark when Chris pulled back to look at him in complaint.

Chris' brain nearly short-circuited. "Seriously, where the fuck did I find you?"

"In a bar. What do you expect?" Nate sounded like he wanted to be indignant but he was practically whining as he shifted and squirmed to get any sort of friction.

Chris was perfectly fine with helping him out.

Stepping back enough to dodge Nate's hands, Chris got to work on Nate's pants and had them down in record time. When he pressed forward again; Nate hissed and thrust against him. The height difference was a bit of an issue; the kid was too fucking short for them to line up just right. Chris caught Nate's mouth again, working Nate's lips open as he reached around, palming Nate's ass before tugging him up.

Nate moaned and hooked a leg behind Chris' for leverage. Their cocks slid together perfectly just once, but it was enough to have Chris groaning into the kiss. Nate wrapped a hand in Chris' hair, tugging and putting Chris right where he wanted him. When Nate wiggled this time, he pressed close enough that when he reached down, his hand wrapped around both their lengths. It wasn't quite perfect but Nate was practically climbing him and fucking _hell_ that was hot.

Chris thrust his hips up, hard. They were both gasping, writhing, hopefully being drowned out by the pretentious as fuck bass of some song that just kept saying _you make me feel that_ or _bad_ or _what_ or something. It's not like Chris was paying attention. Then he realized Nate was matching his rhythm to the song and that was kind of weird but it was fast enough to _really_ be working for Chris.

Then Nate was laughing and Chris bit down on Nate's bottom lip because... why not? Nate whined and thrust hard one more time, tensing but managing to keep his hand moving. Chris felt the heat hit his stomach, probably his shirt, and the glide of Nate's hand was smoother, wetter. It was dirty as fuck and sent Chris right into a haze where things whited out of for a second behind his closed eyelids.

Chris was still panting, breath stirring the hair falling across Nate's forehead, and Nate's breathing was just starting to level off. Of course, the afterglow was cut short when there was an odd, syncopated rhythm being rapped against the door.

Groaning quietly, Chris shifted, Nate's hips twitching to chase the contact.

"Occupied, man. Chill!" Nate called, only loud enough to be heard through the door. It was more of a _loud mutter_ really and Chris had to fight not to laugh as he grabbed some paper towels to start wiping down.

When a voice replied, Nate went still so quickly, Chris worried he’d injure himself.

"No shit. Why the hell do you think I'm even out here?"

After a myriad of facial expression ranging from amused to annoyed and settling somewhere around smug, Nate started fixing his pants and wiping off what he could with towels he stole from Chris' hands. This was seriously getting weird.

"You're a little late on the cockblocking, Saporta."

"Whatever." This Saporta guy, Chris knew it had to be one of the two who had watched him drag Nate from the crowd, didn't sound too concerned. "Alex is having an aneurysm about you being brutally murdered with a hand dryer or some shit. Come prove you're alive."

Nate glared. Seriously, this kid's glare was the stuff of legends. Saporta laughed. Turning around for a second, Nate reach up and flattened Chris’ hair. Acting on the same type of impulses that got him here, Chris caught a hand under Nate’s chin and tugged him up into a firm, quick press of lips.

When he let go, Nate was smirking. “Thanks.” The weird knocking was back and Saporta had apparently started singing something that may or may not have been by Beyonce. “Gotta go,” Nate shrugged and pulled the door open.

In the brief seconds it took for Nate to get out, Chris caught the gaudy-dressed one trying to get a good look at his boy’s conquest.

“Dude! Did you just fuck Captain Kirk?” He sounded impressed and weirded out. It was _hilarious_.

Chris just laughed and threw the towels in the trash, pushing back out to meet the crowd with his shirt about half off. What else do you do?


End file.
